


Every Waking Nightmare

by Thorongil82



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Coma, Developing Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Maybe non-Infinity War AU, Mind Break, Original Character(s), Original villain - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Character Tags to be Added - Freeform, Pain, Panic Attacks, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship(s), Serious Injuries, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Spoiler Tags to be Added, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 13:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorongil82/pseuds/Thorongil82
Summary: A couple of months have passed since Adrian Toomes was caught and stopped by Queens' friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Since then, Peter has been trying to live his normal Parker life; studying at school, hanging out with his best friend Ned, and practicing for decathlon, while also taking the not-so-normal lifestyle option of travelling to and from the Avengers Compound whenever both he and Tony Stark were available. Meanwhile, Spider-Man has been free to swing across the city to help people with anything, no matter how small, with seemingly no big foe in sight. However, when a new threat challenges Peter in a way he's never expected, does he have the fortitude to weather the new storm along with his changing lifestyle, or is Peter Parker's normal life just another mask to hide a broken soul?





	Every Waking Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there. This is my first fic for Spider-Man and the MCU. Couple of things to keep in mind: 
> 
> First, this is going to be a dark fic. Darker than anything else I've written, though one may come close. Two if I decide to make what one of my assessments was on. So, there will eventually be stuff that may trigger and/or upset some people. Those sorts of stuff I will tend to leave a warning for, both in the notes and just beforehand. Such as, there's a small event that may suffice in the opening chapter. I shall warn accordingly. 
> 
> Secondly, I like to write long chapters, in case you didn't notice. If you're a bit apprehensive about that, please try and stick with it. From previous experiences, a lot of people over on FanFiction certainly seem to like them. Apparently I can make them work, if their opinions are anything to go by. 
> 
>  
> 
> And I've probably talked a bit too much. I'll let you get to it. Onwards!

“Okay, which pieces do we need now?”

It's December 30th.

Just another winter's day in Queens. Not a soul is at school. No students, no teachers. No one. Christmas break is here. Which leaves plenty of time for the two teenagers sitting in the bedroom of a small apartment to put together their newest Lego set.

“Uh … I think we attach the bridge now?” Ned Leeds replies from his seated place on the floor, his words coming out more as a question than an answer. Dressed in a red t-shirt with the caption _On Sithmas I Feel_ followed by eight identical stormtrooper helmets over the emotions _Sad, Tired, Stressed, Angry, Excited, Happy, Calm_ and _Mad_ , with the final emotion, _Jolly_ , having the same helmet but with a Christmas hat on top, the Guy in the Chair carefully thumbs through the pages of one of the booklets for the Imperial Star Destroyer set.

“You think?” repeats Peter Parker, eyes down on the partially constructed underside of the spaceship in his hands. Spinning round on his chair to face his friend, he too wears Star Wars themed festive clothing; a black sweater of Darth Vader's helmet wearing a Christmas hat with the words _I Find Your Lack Of Cheer Disturbing_ printed above it.

Both pieces of festive clothing were presents from Aunt May to the boys, having spotted them in a shop window while out Christmas shopping.

“I don't know, there's a lot of pieces!” Ned says as he looks up.

“It's normally the next page of the book.”

“I've rarely had a set this big before! Only the Death Star was bigger! I don't want to mess anything up!” Ned says defensively, quickly flicking through all the instructions they had already completed. “How'd you even get this for me?”

“Uh … I bought it. Just like anything else. Besides, there's way more pieces in Helm's Deep.”

“Tony Stark?” Ned raises an eyebrow and looks at his best friend.

“N-No! Why would I need – I-I've got some mon- I-It's not like I can't look after-” Peter stammers, looking everywhere else in his room except at Ned before sighing as he catches the look on his face. “Okay, yes. Tony Stark.”

“That is so cool! You have Iron Man buying you presents!”

Peter softly smiled to himself as Ned's awestruck expression turns back to the pages of the booklet. He wasn't about to tell his friend that it was initially meant as a gift for him. Mr. Stark had been very pressing in what he wanted for his presents and didn't seem to believe him when he had only requested for a couple of small things.

“If I was in your age and some rich bloke turned round and asked what I wanted, I'd be asking for the most expensive thing I could think of,” Mr. Stark had stated during a visit to the Avengers compound. “Not that I'm going to get you a car or a mansion or anything like that. You have to actually do some world saving and be a bit older to qualify for that treatment. And even then, I'd still say no.”

So, Peter, being who he was, ended up asking for things he figured Ned and Aunt May would like on top of the two Lego sets and comics he had already requested. There was also a couple of books on the list that he figured a certain snarky loner that may or may not be the academic decathlon captain as an apology for the missed practices. It got a strange look from Iron Man when he'd named the cookbooks intended for his aunt, though his excuse of needing to know how to cook for himself seemed to be acceptable enough.

“Plus, the ladies do like a man who can cook,” Mr. Stark had added, causing a warm blush to trickle up Peter's face. Spotting the obvious reddening upon the teenager's skin, Mr. Stark smirked before adding, “Knock up some of their favourites and they'll be falling in your lap.”

“Th-That's got nothing to do with it,” Peter had disputed, the spluttering over his words doing nothing to wipe the smug look off of the billionaire's face. Nor did it stop him from leaving a note inside with a couple of suggestions and tips when the gifts were delivered, one that made him very thankful that he had checked before wrapping them up for Aunt May.

As it was, the eccentric billionaire had also gotten his own presents for her, though Peter suspected Ms. Potts might have had a hand in that. So, come Christmas morning, there had been far more presents than usual underneath the Parker Christmas tree, leaving May a little speechless. From Stark and Pepper, Peter received the two Lego sets; a B-Wing fighter and a _Defence of Crait_ set from The Last Jedi, a textbook on nanotechnology, as well as a Starkphone to replace his heavily cracked, way-more-inferior one, while May had given him the sweater, a new backpack, not that he needed another – he had gotten much better at hiding his gear away when going on patrol straight after school – with a small zipper at the base for a pocket that could be much better for hiding his Spider-Man suit inside, and an old polaroid camera that was Uncle Ben's. While he had been very reluctant to take it, May convinced him by saying Ben had wanted to give it to Peter himself when he was a little older.

May herself acquired a nice set of china dishware and silver cutlery from Stark and a very beautiful silver necklace studded with aquamarine gemstones from Pepper, while Peter had given her two cookbooks; one with Thai recipes and the other with a whole assortment of what were described as easy meals – only time would tell. Last, but not least, Peter also gave her a heart-shaped locket, that he did buy with his own money, that opened up to reveal, in one side, a photo of young Peter with his parents all neatly dressed up, and a photo of a slightly older Peter with Ben and May in the other. In the first photo, Peter – at about four or five at his best guess – is sitting on his mother's lap with one of her arms wrapped around his waist, the other around his father's shoulders as he crouches next to them, a hand on Peter's knee and on her shoulders. In the second, Peter is about twelve in his recollection, wearing one of his pun shirts – a glass half-filled with water and a caption that says _Technically the glass is always full_ , with half labelled as _50% water_ and the other _50% air_ – and a pair of squared lens glasses sitting across the bridge of his nose, standing next to May and Ben, with their arms around one another. The sight of them brought tears to May's eyes as she stood up and hugged her sweet nephew and softly showered his cheeks with embarrassing kisses, ones that could never stop him from going back and doing it all over again just to see the joyful light that shimmered through the tiny glistening droplets.

And when Ned had turned up a few days later to stay until the first day back to school, his parents having been lucky enough to win a couples vacation that brought them back on January the 2 nd , he received his Lego Imperial Star Destroyer and Helm's Deep, along with his festive shirt and a jet-black fedora, while the Parker duo received a large assortment of baked goods from Ned's mother. In short, the process was repeated once more. Just without the cheerful crying and speckling of cheek pecks.

Not that Peter was complaining. Having Ned smothered by his Aunt's ecstatic emotions would have been excellent for both teasing and blackmail purposes. Ned seeing him being smothered? Not so much. Ned teasing him wasn't the worrying part. The worrying part was that he'd probably bring it up at their table at lunch, which Michelle would overhear and file away until the opportune moment for maximum embarrassment. At least, that's what he figured she would do from what he knew of her. Which, admittedly, was not a lot. The only evidence he'd gotten that supported his theory was from a week after Homecoming, in an incident where a bully in junior year had been picking on a freshman for heaving his guts up during the dance. Not that Peter had been there to see, but he had overheard that the student did at least make it out into the hallway before throwing up. Either way, the next day a photo had been stuck on the bully's locker of him at the previous year's Homecoming having not only thrown up all over his clothes but also seemingly pissed his pants. Despite the large gratitude from the initial victim and the heaping embarrassment flung upon the bully, no one had come forth to claim the praise. However, Peter had noticed that for the rest of the day Michelle had oddly looked very pleased. Which meant all that really changed was that she always had one corner of her lips very slightly curled upwards, no matter where she looked, which then spread to the other corner of her mouth if she got a glance at the bully or walking past the photo on the locker, and what he could only guess to be an oh-so tiny sparkle of satisfaction and amusement in her eyes. And by the next day the minuscule straightening of her mouth had disappeared, the maybe-imagined spark along with it, returning to her normal deadpan snark and emotionless wall.

Not that Peter was looking. No. Never. Observing? Possibly. Looking? No.

Definitely not.

Which left Peter with a lingering confusion as to why he's thinking of Michelle of all people right now before catching his friend's half-expectant stare.

“What?”

“I said that we do need the bridge now,” Ned repeats, giving the adolescent hero a calculating look. “Thinking about Liz again?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dude, you had spaced out. You only ever space out when you're thinking about her. Or see her. Well, saw anyway.”

“That's not true!”

“Alright, what were you thinking about then?”

“Uh, just … stuff.”

'Smooth. Very convincing,' Peter internally chastises himself, trying very hard not to cringe at his very poor excuse for a deflection.

“Stuff,” Ned echoes bluntly.

“Yes. Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Uh … in-internship s-stuff?” Peter manages to tumble out, though managing to make it sound like a question. Technically, it wasn't a lie. He had initially been thinking of Mr. Stark. But, at the same time, a long way from the truth. He spots Ned's mouth open up and jumps in again, “Though I'm not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Not even to your best friend? Your guy in the chair?”

Peter fixes him with a look that he hopes is intimidating, setting the pieces in his hands down on the desk behind him before folding his arms across his chest. “You said the bridge was next?”

“You left it up on the top bunk.”

Peter pushes himself out of his chair before leaping up into the air, twisting his body so that he was upside down before gripping the ceiling with his feet. A hand reaches out and sticks to the roof as well before he crawls over to the bunk beds. He reaches down with one hand towards the required section and gently touches it with two fingers before drawing the hand back, the bridge coming along and adhering to his fingertips as if they were glued on, before gently moving away from the beds and dangling down over his friend, using only his feet to stick to the ceiling.

“That is so cool,” Ned declares slack-jawed as Peter passes the section into his raised open hands.

Peter can't help but smile at his friend's awestruck admiration of his abilities. Plus, he could always rely on his powers to completely distract Ned if they started to talk about something he just couldn't reply to. Perhaps it was a little petty using it to dance around talking about some issues, but he may as well while there is a good opportunity to show his powers off, particularly for someone who almost seems to idolise them. He's not always in the best scenario to use his talents as a diversion, plus he knows lying is definitely not his strong suit, so he'll take those moments when they come.

“You know, if Iron Man was getting this stuff, you could've asked him for the Super Star Destroyer,” Ned says as he goes to attach the bridge onto the build. “It's got so many more pieces.”

“It's 4 feet long. How would you go about getting it home?” Peter replies as he carefully lowers himself down from the ceiling as to not disturb the remaining Lego pieces on the ground. Thor forbid he land on one of them if he just dropped down. He didn't need to deal with that painful outcome.

“Very carefully. Helm's Deep has even more pieces.”

“Yeah, but that can be segmented far easier. You know, I saw a 35,000 piece custom build of a Star Destroyer online.”

Ned's mouth drops open once again. “That is seriously amazing. We have to do something like that one day.”

“We'll need a lot of pieces,” Peter points out as he jumps back onto his chair, spinning round on it. “Way more than we have right here. Plus they'd have to be exactly right.”

“Don't you dare crush this dream, Peter. We will do this. We must. Even if we have to buy all the Legos in the world. Could you ask Iron Man if he could?”

“I seriously doubt he would go for that.”

“What if we promised to build a life-sized Lego of him?”

“Probably not.”

“Or his suit?”

“No.”

“Both?”

Peter pauses for a second. “That might tempt him a little more, but probably still no.”

“Dream crusher,” Ned pouts and shrinks a little in his place. “Still, this is just a set back. We will do this someday. I hereby swear upon the Spidey code.”

“There's no Spidey code, Ned.”

“Then that's another thing we need to work on. Every superhero has a code.”

A loud double-ping sounds out from Peter's phone, cutting into the conversation. Peter quickly leaps to his feet, knowing that notification was for the police scanner Mr. Stark had linked to both his device and suit to make it easier to chase down any problems.

_Bank robbery on the corner of 8 th Avenue, 21st Street, Midtown. Suspects are armed. _

“What is it?” Ned asks, peering over.

“Bank robbery,” Peter reads off as he walks over to his new backpack, pulling out the Spider-Man suit from the compartment in the bottom. “Better get set up.”

“Already on it,” Ned replies as he pulls out his laptops and places them both down on the desk, while Peter strips down to his boxers before sliding into the red-and-blue spandex suit. He pulls free the mask and tugs it over his head before pressing the emblem-drone on his chest, the suit sucking in till it is hugging skin-tight to his lean body.

“ _Hello, Peter_ ,” the soft spoken voice of Karen, his AI, greets as Peter taps down on a small button above the trigger on his right glove, powering up the suit and activating the interface.

“Hey, Karen. There's a bank robbery on the corner of 8th and 21st.”

“ _Calculating fastest route._ ”

“Good. Ned, you just about ready?”

“Up and ready to go,” Ned replies as he brings up his programs.

“Okay,” Peter breathes, tossing his phone to his friend. “Hook it up and bring up the feed. And don't eat all the pizza when May gets back. I'd like to have something to eat when this is done.”

“I make no promises.”

“Let's go, Karen,” Peter sighs, darting over to the window and sliding it up.

“ _Route calculated. Would you like to let May know you are heading out on patrol?”_

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Peter answers as he jumps out, flicking out a web towards a nearby building. “Don't need her being too worried.”

* * *

Zipping around the city in the suit just felt so right to Peter. It made him feel free. There wasn't any limits, no pretending. As Peter, he always felt the need to limit himself, to hold back. He couldn't show off in PE, not that he desperately wanted to. But the focus required to actually look like he was struggling physically was ridiculous. All their fitness exercises he could probably do in his sleep. Everything had to be toned down as Peter. He could just get away with using his instincts to avoid students in the hallway. Anything else would draw suspicion and he really didn't need more eyes on him. If he was alone with nobody looking, or just with Ned or Mr. Stark, or May now that she knew, then he could use a bit more of his powers for a boost. But that was it. Enhanced senses had to be dialled down or ignored, which was much easier said than done. He could overhear a lot of whispers in the corridors, picking up on stuff he just didn't need to know. And that instinct telling him that something was going to happen to him flared, meaning he needed to suppress his initial reaction to just jump out of the way. If it was far enough, then maybe it would be believable. From behind or up close, let it happen. If somehow he forgot and did instinctively move out of the way, it had to be covered up with some sort of clumsy stumble or awkward movement. School was boring and dreary, and at many occasions far too easy. Just about everything in his normal life seemed to just be an inconsequential blur.

At times, he really wished that offer was real. That Mr. Stark had meant it when he wanted Spider-Man to join the Avengers. That it wasn't just a test.

What would he have done if Peter had said yes?

After school, the suit could come on and the hero rise forth to swing once again. Everything was so freeing being Spider-Man. Spider-Man didn't have to hold back, though he still did when it came to throwing punches – he didn't want to hurt anyone, after all. But Spider-Man didn't have to hide how high he could jump, how strong he was, how quick his reflexes were, or how much he could help. The only thing Spider-Man needed to hide, was the boy under the mask. He could swing through the skyline, bounce from wall to wall, climb up just about anything. Queen's personal superhero was free to be himself. Because everyone was happy to have Spider-Man's help. Well, most people. The bad guys he stopped weren't so pleased when he showed up, nor were some of the police officers. Plus there were also some who thought he was a menace. A vigilante who had no right to do the job of the police. They would ask how such a _hero_ could be trusted when he kept hiding behind a mask. It's not like knowing would do any better. Everyone wants to be helped by a superhero. To see them in action. It's just so cool, even in the perspective of another hero like Spider-Man. No one wants to be saved by, now, a 16 year old kid, no matter how good the intentions are.

Peter had always figured, as soon as he had chosen what to do with the powers he was given, that Spider-Man was, and would always be the better half. There was just no other way to be the person he knew he could be, and wanted to be.

It didn't take long for Spider-Man to arrive at the scene of the crime. 21 st  Street ran along his path home from school, so he could have easily navigated the route without Karen's help. Nevertheless, Karen's directions helped make sure he could focus on his swings and surroundings rather than having to double check how far he still had to swing. As it was, the particular corner seemed very familiar in the head of the young superhero, though why it was seemed to elude him. Midway through the trip, Ned had patched through into Spider-Man's headset and was keeping him updated with the alerts coming through the police scanner, while also keeping up the running commentary of how to enhance Spider-Man's image within the community; including possible ethics for his superhero moral code, Q&A videos he could post answering questions the public posts, and meet and greet options for his adoring fans. Really, as much as he would normally entertain his best friend's ideas at the very least, right now they just served as white noise to blank out the lingering nerves. Spider-Man knew that it helped being a bit nervous – it helped to keep him on edge. But too much nervous energy and it made it harder to determine which tingles were instincts alerting him to threats and him being paranoid. When it came to the large majority of his good deeds, he didn't need to worry about being too nervous. Generally things couldn't go too bad when it came to giving directions, getting pets down from tall trees and catching petty thieves and muggers. But a bank robbery usually meant multiple people, guns and possible hostages. Things could go very badly for anyone involved. He needed his focus.

“ _The next intersection, Peter,_ ” Karen's soft voice eases through the buzz. “ _The bank is across the road on the right._ ”

Spider-Man swings over to the right hand side of the street and lands against a rose-red metal balcony; part of the apartment building's fire escape, up on the third floor. Slightly ahead, sitting on the corner itself was a construction site that was hidden away from outside eyes by large blue boards and scaffolding covered in cloth. Across the icy road to the left was a small thrift shop, the lights out with two mannequins standing in the window, with some fallen snow having been pushed and swept up against the shop walls. To the right was the bank in question being robbed; decked in green boards advertising _Queen's Community Bank_ , with at least five figures inside from what Spider-Man could see, and rear end of a dull grey van just in view, the rest of the vehicle blocked by the construction scaffolding. And off to his left was a bodega, a white billboard above, _Grocery_ , what appeared to be lingering scorch marks and a charred gash along the outside corner of the building, and a red banner above the dimly lit windows, _Delmar's Deli-Grocery “Best Sandwiches In Queens”_.

'Delmar's! No wonder the address was familiar,' Spider-Man recalls, mentally facepalming as to why he couldn't remember sooner.

“Ned, anything from the police?” Spider-Man inquires as he stands out perpendicular to the edge of his temporary perch. It wasn't too surprising that Spider-Man had arrived on the scene quicker than they had. After all, he lived nearby and there was a big advantage in being able to swing through the air. He could take shortcuts through alleyways and didn't have to deal with any traffic.

“ _The nearest unit has just turned onto 8_ _th_ _Avenue_ ,” Ned reports, his voice slightly muffled for some reason. There's a pause before adding, with a clearer voice, “ _Looks like they're 15 streets away. There's some sort of snow block ahead of them, though._ ”

Or with fallen snow.

“Are you eating right now?”

“ _Didn't want the pizza to get cold._ ”

Spider-Man sighs and shakes his head slightly. “Ned, can you hack into the camera's inside the bank? It's the one across from Delmar's. Karen, activate Advanced Reconnaissance Mode.”

His interface shifts until it goes black, grey and white, with heat signatures resonating within the bank building. Inside were just the five figures that he had spotted earlier; two standing together swinging their arms at something, two crouched down and appearing to be picking things off the floor, and one standing just away from the others, facing away. All wear simple black masks, looking like they'd just gone with a stereotypical design choice of cutting holes for the eyes and mouth out of a woollen beanie.

“Okay, so there aren't any hostages,” the red-and-blue vigilante mutters to himself, tilting his head upright.

“ _And in,_ ” Ned announces before a small screen appears on Spider-Man's interface, showing the five figures within.

The two that were standing and swinging are smashing against the outsides of the middle ATM with crowbars, several holes having already been made in the surface. One keeps swinging while the other wedges their crowbar into one of the holes, attempting to lever the ATM out of the wall. The two crouched on the ground were stuffing money from the casings within the second ATM into a large duffle bag, the first two ATMs lying on the ground with large gaping holes where they should be in the wall. The last robber standing and facing away from the others was watching the door that Spider-Man couldn't see from his angle. In that figure's hands was a shotgun, while he also noticed a handgun by the feet of one of the crouched individuals and another sticking out of the pants of a crowbar wielder.

“Okay, I'm going in.”

“ _Please try not to blow up Delmar's again,_ ” Ned says, his voice slightly muffled by pizza again.

“So long as they don't have alien tech ...” Spider-Man mutters as he swings down to the street, circling around before landing in front of the unguarded door.

The vision in his suit returns to normal as he quietly pushes open the door and walks in, carefully closing it behind him before leaning up against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Having trouble, fellas?” he asks, causing all five figures to jump and face him. “Tried calling customer support?”

“Shit!” exclaims the one holding the shotgun as he pumps and raises it. Spider-Man shoots it with a web and pulls, wrenching it from the grip of the crook as the other criminals start moving.

The one swinging the crowbar drops it and goes for their gun in their pants, while one of the robbers on the ground reaches for the other handgun laying beside them. The other on the ground crawls over to pick up the dropped crowbar, while the one trying to lever out the third ATM tries to jerk the crowbar free. Spider-Man webs and pulls the two handguns away as they are aimed at him, flinging them behind with the discarded shotgun.

“I know they can be a bit of a hassle, but at least it's not violent,” Spider-Man continues as he ducks a punch from one of them and sidesteps the swung crowbar, the crowbar wielder stumbling and nearly hitting his partner. The third tries to tackle him only for the vigilante to back flip over and land on his back, driving him into the ground and then sticking him down with a web. “Maybe they have a solution? You do have accounts, right?”

The one trying to free the crowbar stuck in the wall still can't tug it out, bringing a foot up to push against the wall. Still nothing. Spider-Man leaps off the webbed robber and sticks himself to a window as the fourth runs up to him. He leaps out of the way as the masked man throws a punch, his fist colliding with the glass with a heavy thud. The robber pulls back with a pained gasp and grabs at his fist before being shot by webbing and pinned against the now cracked window.

“Though I guess it could be a machine problem,” the hero reasons as he backs up from another crowbar swing, followed by another. He grabs the wielder by the chest and grips to him, picking him up effortlessly and throwing him over his shoulder. The masked man lands heavily and folds over himself, the crowbar clattering out of his grip. “The Avengers were having problems here a couple of months ago.”

“ _Peter, a message has been sent to the decathlon chat,_ ” Karen interjects suddenly, a flashing notification appearing in a corner of the hero's interface.

“Uh, mute it, Karen,” he says softly as he turns to face the first robber who attacked him. He had managed to move over to the discarded guns and retrieved his shotgun, now trying to brush the webbing off. “I'll read it later. Hey, buddy! That's a little excessive, isn't it?”

The criminal growls and gives up on getting rid of the webs, aiming it at the hero. He's already moving before a tingling sensation jolts up the back of his neck, lunging to the floor as the shotgun is fired. He slides along the ground as the firearm is pumped again before sweeping the robber's legs out from below. As he hits the ground the trigger is pulled, firing the shot into the ceiling. Spider-Man springs up to his feet and fires two webs; the first pinning the gun and the hands holding it to the ground and the second trapping the rest of the robber.

“Okay, two left,” the teenage neighbourhood hero mutters as he faces the two crowbar users. The one who he had flung down slowly gets back up to his feet with a groan and picks up his weapon. “How far out are the police?”

“ _They are still several blocks away,_ ” Ned reports. “ _Something about weird built up snow on the roads._ ”

“Okay, might be worth checking out afterwards,” Spider-Man says, the robber grunting as he swings the crowbar as hard as he can at the spandex-wearing teenager's head. He catches it with ease, as if he was catching a balloon, and grabs hold of the front of his shirt, throwing him up to the roof and webbing him to the ceiling. He then tosses the crowbar up to him, the weapon lightly touching the webbing and yet still sticking strong.

Seeing the last robber still struggling to free his crowbar from the wall, seemingly failing to notice the fates of his companions, Spider-Man turns and walks over to the two discarded handguns. He aims his web-shooters down at them and sticks them to the ground. A sudden spark lights up his entire body and he instinctively leaps for the ceiling, narrowly evading the shot fired at him from behind that consequentially shatters another window. Twisting round, he sees that a sixth masked individual had walked in from the set of doors the initial shotgun user had been watching, this one also holding a shotgun in his hands. He glances to the last standing crook and shakes his head exasperatedly before reloading the firearm.

“Ah, so you guys were waiting on a friend. Can he do machine maintenance?” Spider-Man quips, dropping down and yanking the shotgun away with a web. He then shoots two webs into the wall behind the new robber, the lines crossing over one another, before jumping, pulling on the webs and flinging himself towards the robber. Extending both legs, he cannons into the individual with a heavy kick, rolling through as the crook is cleaned off his feet and crumpled on the floor before trapping him under a web.

Finally, Spider-Man turns to the last robber who is still trying to pull free the crowbar wedged into the wall. He walks up to the man who is in the process of punching the wall in frustration.

“Stupid. Dumb. Crowbar,” he growls, pounding the wall with each word.

“Need a hand there, buddy?” Spider-Man asks innocently as he taps him on the shoulder. The robber spins round as he ducks and steps around him in the other direction, before the hero reaches up and effortlessly unhooks the crowbar out from the wall. He holds it out as the robber turns back. “Here you go.”

“Hey, thanks,” the crook replies as he takes the weapon, only to have a small web spring out and attach to his head, tugging him forward head-first. He grunts as he collides with the machine he had been trying to lever out earlier before being webbed up against it.

“Well, it looks like you all are fine now,” Spider-Man says with a bow as all six figures struggle in the webs trying to break free. He straightens up as the faint sound of police sirens finally hits his ears. “Just remember, guys. Crime doesn't pay.”

Spider-Man quickly runs out of the bank and thwips over to a nearby building, perching on the ledge just to make sure that the police do get the criminals and they don't somehow manage to escape from the webbing. Once the officers are on the scene and have entered the bank, he swings off down the street.

“Ned, did the police mention where those snow blocks were?”

“ _Already ahead of you. Pulled up footage from nearby cameras of some of the locations. Looks like a group of six men just shovelled and piled up the snow that was on the sidewalks in the middle of the roads._ ”

“Six? Pretty sure it must have been those robbers, then.”

“ _That would be very likely_ ,” Karen voices.

“ _The nearest one is another two avenues down, if you want to take a look_ ,” Ned continues. Another image appears on Spider-Man's interface, Karen directing the way to the location which the masked hero follows.

“How didn't the snow get reported or taken down?” he asks as he swings along.

“ _Looks like they started on the quieter streets_ ,” Ned explains. “ _Not too many people driving about when it's icy out. Plus they seemed to have packed it pretty thick, so the cars couldn't just plow through_.”

Spider-Man comes to a stop on the rooftop of a building near the location, looking down the street. The eyes on the mask squint smaller as his vision zooms in on the snow bank.

“Plus there are kids using them as snow forts,” he observes, looking at the little kids throwing snowballs at one another as they both hide behind the piled snow and also clamber over it to bombard icy hell from above. “I'm just gonna go make sure they're being careful.”

After a quick dive down to talk to the bundled up children, which resulted in a bunch of snowballs being thrown in his direction and him lightly throwing some back, he shot off to the other snow blocks. A couple of others had kids playing around them two, which also turned into snow fights, and with the others he started to clean the snow off the road, opening the way for any traffic.

“Karen, are there any other issues for the police?” he asks as he finishes tidying up the last snow block.

“ _Nothing has been reported_.”

“Alright, guess I'll just swing around on patrol then. You can switch off now if you want, Ned.”

“ _Okay. Let me know if you need my powers. Oh, wait. Hang on …_ ” There's a brief pause as Spider-Man swings up to a nearby rooftop. “ _May's asking if you can be back by 6 at the latest._ ”

“Si- But that's in 26 minutes? Why 6?” Another pause.

“ _She says because it's winter and it'll be dark soon._ ” Another break in his speech, through his silence the masked vigilante just hearing May's voice faintly coming through. “ _And that if you're not back by then, she'll call Tony Stark_.”

“Of course she will,” Spider-Man mutters, shooting out a web at a nearby building. “Tell her that I'll just do a quick check round and then come home. I'll let her know when I'm on my way back.”

“ _So long as you're back on time_ ,” Ned relays after a moment.

“She shouldn't worry,” he sighs as he swings off. “I can protect myself.”

“ _Until someone else is in danger and then you throw yourself in the way_.”

“Better me than them,” he mutters.

“ _What do you mean_?”

“Bec-uh ...” the hero stammers, nearly missing his swing. “Well, I … I just mean I've got a better chance of surviving. W-What with my powers and all.”

“ _There is that. Alright then, Spider-Man, I'll see you shortly_.”

“Alright- Hey, wait! Ned!”

“ _Yeah_?”

“What were those messages to the decathlon chat about?”

“ _Oh, that was just about the party at Flash's tomorrow night_.”

“Ah. And?”

“ _Just people checking who's going and a couple already organising lifts. Abe and Charles are driving down together, Cindy's going with some of her friends, Sally was going to be there later and offered to pick up any stragglers. Michelle hasn't said if she's going, which seems about normal. We haven't either, but I didn't want to say anything while you were busy._ ”

“Okay. Let's hold off on deciding while I'm patrolling, alright?”

“ _Don't know if you want to go or not_?”

“Something like that. I'll see you soon.”

“ _Take care, Spider-Man_.”

Spider-Man swoops down to the ground when he he spots a little girl wailing as she looks up to the top of a tree.

“Hey! Hey, don't cry,” he says to the snivelling kid, crouching down and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don't cry, it's all going to be alright.”

She scrunches up her face as the tears slide down her face, trickling over her rosy cheeks.

“Come on, what's wrong? You can tell me.”

Her lips quiver as he slowly turns her round to face him. She keeps her mouth shut as she blinks, the tears still falling from her shimmering blue eyes.

“Oookay … what about your name?”

Still no response.

“... Can you speak?”

She nods with a sniffle.

“Can you tell me what's wrong? I just want to help.”

“M-My parents told me not to speak to strangers,” she finally speaks, fog appearing from her mouth with each word.

“But I'm the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. I help people.”

“My daddy says y-you're bad.”

“I'm not bad!”

“S-Says you're a men- a mayonnaise.”

“A mayonnaise?” Spider-Man repeats as he tilts his head, the eyes of the mask squinting slightly. “... You mean a menace?”

She nods her head with another shuddered sniffle.

“Well ...” Spider-Man drags out, “What if you just nod or shake your head to what I ask? That way, you won't be speaking to me.”

The young girl's face scrunches up slightly as she seems to think about it for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay. Now, you were looking up at the tree, right?” A nod.

“Is there something up there?” Another nod.

“Can you climb?” Her head shakes.

The masked teenager turns his gaze up towards the tree. The eyes on the mask shrink down as they zoom in, focusing on a tawny tabby cat.

“Is that your cat?”

She nods her tear-streaked head.

He leaps up to the lowest branches and slowly climbs higher and higher. His adhesive grip clings onto the soaked frosted branches as he pulls himself up till he's level with the feline.

“Hey there,” he says softly, the cat turning to face him with sage-green eyes. “How'd you get up here?”

“Meanie boys put her up there,” comes the indignant voice of the little girl below.

Spider-Man takes a quick glance at her before focusing back on the cat. He reaches out a hand to pat her, only for it to reach out with a paw and bat it away with claws out. He tries again, the cat swiping as the hand got near again, before hissing at the third attempt.

“Uh, I don't think she likes me,” the teenager notes aloud, hesitantly retracting his hand.

“ _Maybe she thinks you're one of the boys that put her up here_ ,” Karen suggests in his ear.

“Maybe. Though I think most cats are like this.” He tries again, very slowly moving his hand across. “Hey, I'm not trying to hurt you. Just taking you down to your girl.” She lets out a low growl before swiping again with another hiss.

“ _Try removing the branch she's on_.”

“No! That could make her fall!” he exclaims as he glances around, looking for another way. The cat's tail flops back and forth as it watches the hero with seemingly grumpy eyes. “Ah, screw it.” He darts forwards and picks her up, ignoring the loud growl and the claws that painfully dig into his hands and arms.

“Why couldn't Mr. Stark make a suit that was claw-proof?” Spider-Man grumbles as he carefully walks backwards down the tree trunk, gritting his teeth as the cat continues to scratch, claw and bite away at his limbs.

“ _He must not have been aware of the high magnitude of cat rescues you make_ ,” Karen drily voices. “ _Clearly his priorities were in the wrong place_.”

“No, I-I didn't mean you, Karen,” the teenager replies apologetically.

“ _I know_ ,” the AI hums with what he guesses is a giggle.

'Of course Mr. Stark can program AI to be sarcastic and teasing,' he internally sighs as he reaches the ground, handing the uncooperative feline to the young girl. She bundles up her pet in her arms and hugs her tightly, the cat instantly changing from a razor-clawed demon to a sweet purring baby the second she's out of the hero's touch.

'You're kidding me,' is the thought that completely takes hold of his mind at the sight of the ominous feline purring contently, though what escapes from his mouth is, “Do you need help getting home?”

The little girl shakes her head and points to a house four doors down from where thy are standing. Spider-Man nods and waves before slinging off into the air again.

The rest of his short check around the area turned up no further complications, and by then it was 10 minutes till he needed to be home.

“Karen, can you let May know that I'm on my way back?” Spider-Man asks as he swings in the direction of his apartment.

“ _Of course, Peter_ ,” the AI responded. “ _Shall I include how long you should be_?”

“How long should it take?”

“ _Estimated time of arrival is in 3 minutes_.”

There's a beat of silence as the masked vigilante considers his options.

“Yeah, okay, tell her- wait, hold on,” he instructs as he looks into a passing alleyway on his left, noticing multiple figures surrounding a lone person. A small tingling dances along the back of his neck, almost like a warning, as he says, “Droney, go take a look in there.”

The emblem on the chest of his suit jumps out and hovers before the swinging superhero before he grabs it and tosses it towards the alleyway. The spider drone flies through the air and brings itself to hover stationary in the air just before the pathway. The projection of the drone's vision lights up his interface as he shoots out another web. Droney crawls up along a wall as it spots three figures, three standing above another, all male, with a cane beside the fallen man.

“ _-gonna pay for pulling that stunt_ ,” one growls as two pull out knives, brandishing it in the direction of the grounded man.

“ _For the last time, I didn't do anything_ ,” the one on the ground claims as he gets into a crouching position, taking hold of the cane. “ _It's not my fault you guys can't play for shit_.”

“Need to get there fast,” Spider-Man notes as he releases the web quickly turns round by grabbing onto a street light and slinging himself back. His revolution flings him across the road towards another light, which he flicks out a short web to in order to straighten his trajectory and hurtles through the air towards the alleyway.

“Uh! Too fast! Too fast!” the young hero exclaims, eyes quickly searching his surroundings before landing on a built-up snow pile just in front of the alleyway. “Karen, anything in that pile of snow?!”

“ _Nothing_.”

“Excellent,” he sighs, tucking his hands and knees into his body and causing himself to roll head-over-feet through the air. “CANNONBALL!”

The snow pile explodes as Queens' hero barrels into it, rolling along the pavement and past the entrance to the alley. Springing out and landing on his feet, he briskly walks into the alley with a big smile across his face, hidden from the world underneath his mask, brushing the lingering snow from his suit.

“Whoo! That was fun!” he laughs, looking up to see all four men eyeing him strangely.

“Was … was that you?” one of the three thugs manages to say after a lingering silence, enough time for the spandex-clad teenager to rid his suit of the frozen flakes.

“What? It's a snow day!” he replies with a shrug. “You have to play in the snow on a snow day! It's a rule!”

He quickly shoots out a web at the one that doesn't have a knife, latching onto the man's face. The thug snarls and claws at the sticky substance as one of the knife wielders charges at the red-and-blue clad vigilante. He aims a stab at the hero's chest which is easily stopped by Spider-Man grabbing onto his wrists and webbing them together, before gently prying the knife out of his grip. He then slides him along the icy concrete towards a nearby dumpster before webbing him to it. The other knife wielder growls and pivots to go after their initial target, only to cry out in pain as the cane is brought down hard against his wrist, forcing him to drop the blade.

“See, you can't even do this right,” the man with the cane huffs as he swings again, the thug doubling over as it strikes into his midsection.

“Shut up!” the thug growls as he punches the man in his gut, the cane clattering to the ground as he slumps down to his knees with a groan. The thug looms over the man, cracking his knuckles, but stops as something soft, wet and cold shatters as it impacts his shoulder. Turning around he notices Spider-Man with a snowball in hand, lightly tossing it up and down. His other comrade, the one who's face had been webbed up at the beginning of the skirmish, was also webbed up against the wall of the building.

“Didn't you hear me?” Spider-Man questions, the eyes on his mask squinting slightly. “It's a snow day! Snowball fights only. There's no punches in a snowball fight.”

The snowball flies from the hero's hand and explodes against the chest of the thug, leaving small flecks of glistening frozen crystals clinging to his jumper. He growls and charges, only for Spider-Man to grab onto the front of his jumper and fall backwards, pressing his feet against the thug's midsection and pushing, flipping him over and landing with a heavy thud on top of the dumpster.

“You still don't listen,” the hero chastises, leaping up onto the wall above the dumpster and shooting a web down trapping the last thug. “Why don't you just lie there like a good boy and think about what you've done?” The hero proceeds to jump back down and go over to the man they were harassing, helping him up to his feet.

“Thanks,” he coughs, grabbing at his waist as he takes a couple of deep breaths.

“Here,” Spider-Man says as he reaches down and picks up the cane. Now that he can take a good look at it, he sees that it's quite thin along the jet-black shaft, with a metallic tip on the base. The pommel is in the shape of a dragon, beautifully crafted, that shimmers vibrant and tarnished shades of cobalt, bronze and silver, while its eyes are faded lavender. Inside its open mouth sits a stone of dark violet akin to the crawling shadows. The spandex-clad hero stares at it for a few seconds, entranced by the gentle flicker of the colours as he moved the cane, the dragon almost seeming to be alive as its faded eyes almost appear to strengthen in intensity, before handing it out to its owner. “It's beautiful.”

“My father made it some time ago,” the man says as he takes it, placing his hand over the head and leaning on it.

With the near-mesmerising dragon's head covered up and out of sight, Spider-Man turns his gaze towards the man he just helped. The man is clad in simple black pants and a grey shirt, with a thick coat over the top. On top of his head sits long ashen-brown hair, with the beginnings of a prickly grizzled beard covering his chin and brown eyes flickering between the spiderling and the ground. To the hero, he looks vaguely familiar.

“Hey … you're not ...” Spider-Man starts slowly, the eyes on the mask narrowing as he adopts a slightly more combative stance.

“No, I'm not the Winter Soldier,” the man replies with more strength in his voice. He reaches for his sleeves and rolls them up, showing bare skin on both arms. “No metal here.”

“Sorry,” the hero replies as he relaxes, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You don't even sound like him. Just ...”

“Yeah, I know we look a bit alike,” the man chuckles. “It's caused a bit of strike before. Maybe I should change up my look.”

“ _Peter, you have 4 minutes left to get home_ ,” Karen interjects.

“Oh, right,” he whispers before clearing his throat. “I, uh … Take care, civilian.”

Spider-Man quickly scrambles up the wall of the building and swings off home.

* * *

_The familiar tingling feeling rouses Peter from his slumber. His eyes shoot open and quickly dart around the room. Nothing is out of place. No figurines misplaced, their finished Star Destroyer lies on the desk in his room. Nothing appears to be wrong. Nothing appears to be putting him in danger. And yet, the instinctive feeling that something's coming refuses to leave. The young hero slowly crawls out of bed and up the wall till he's level with Ned on the top bunk._

“ _Ned_ ,” _Peter whispers harshly as he shakes his best friend._ “ _Ned! Wake up!_ ”

_Ned mutters something completely incoherent and rolls over on his side. Peter sighs and shakes his head before moving carefully across the roof towards his door. Gently opening it to make sure it doesn't make a sound, the unequipped hero swings through the door and back onto the ceiling of the hallway._

“ _May?_ ” _he whispers again._

_No response._

_The tingling grows slightly stronger._

_Peter turns to start moving towards her bedroom, but stops as he hears a faint whirring in the other direction. Carefully, he pivots round and crawls into the living room, as cloaked in darkness as the rest of the apartment. He lowers himself back down to the ground and scans the area but fails to find anything out of place._

“ _Is anyone there?_ ” _he asks, his voice a little louder than before._

_No response. The tingling remains._

_The whirring gets louder._

_Suddenly the tingling morphs into a sharp stabbing sensation that screams at him to move. He listens and back-flips away, landing once more on the ceiling, only for the outside wall to explode inwards. Racing through the dust and shattered debris is a glowing green-eyed masked man in a brown leather jacket, wearing a wing-suit with two large metallic wings that slice through the walls as it flies in._

“ _Mr. Toomes?!”_ _Peter exclaims and instinctively flicks out his wrist to web up the villain, only for him to not be wearing his web shooters._

_The flying menace flicks out a web and slices out the ceiling from underneath him, sending him crashing down to the ground. He groans and tries to get up, only to scream in pain as Adrian Toomes pounces on top, the large metallic talons squeezing down and raking across his skin._

“ _I warned you, Pete_ ,” _he says very seriously. He reaches down and punches the teenager across the face, the wing matching the movement and slicing into the ground._ “ _I warned you._ ”

_Another vicious strike across Peter's face._

“ _I'd kill everyone you love if you messed with me._ ”

_Another face punch._

“ _And I will, don't worry about that. I'll get your best friend, your dear aunt, your top-percent idol Stark. Even your precious teammates._ ”

_Another face punch._

“ _Won't that hurt, having them find out that you're good ol' Spider-Man just when it's too late_? _That it's your fault they have to die. And their mighty hero can't save any of them_.”

_Peter's arms cling tightly to the talons pinning him to the ground, trying to wrench them up as his legs flail out uselessly. Adrian Toomes removes his bird-like mask, revealing the slightly wrinkled face that looks down with an eerily annoyed look. Less the look of a man ready to kill several people, and more the look of someone who finished a task that just wasn't good enough._

“ _But messing with me wasn't enough, was it_? _You just had to go and break my little girl's heart too, didn't you_?”

_Peter screams out once again as the talons squeeze harder onto his body, his strength failing him as the harsh sharp metal digs through his skin._

“ _I was going to be nice to you, Pete. I was going to get you first. I'd have made it quick and painless._ ”

_Peter's attempted thrashing and struggling ceases as one large wing slams around his neck, the sharp wing segments parting just enough to not touch his skin so long as he held perfectly still._

“ _But now, you're going to watch them all die, one by one, as they scream while I make it as painful as humanly possible. And it'll keep happening until you're begging me to end it. But I won't. Not until they're all dead. But you'll live, Peter. You'll live with all their deaths on your head. Every. Single. One._ ”

_From behind them both the sound of a door quietly creaks open._

“ _Peter_?” _May's voice sounds with a soft yawn from out of sight, causing a sinister smirk to cross Adrian Toomes' face._

“ _I think we've just found our first victim._ ”

* * *

**[Here's your trigger warning. However, this is a bit plot specific, so suggestion would be to read on unless you really can't, which I understand]**

****“NOOO!!!!!” shrieks the teenager as he shoots out of his bed, springing up to a crouching position and shooting out his wrist. A web fires out of his web-shooter and sticks to his dark bedroom wall in the unlit room.

The young superhero tries to take long deep breaths as he curls his body up into a ball, the red-and-blue suit clinging tightly to his body. Too tightly. His breath grows shallow as everything feels like its constricting, from the multi-million dollar suit hugging his body to the web-shooters strapped to his wrists, to the lungs and heart stuck inside his chest. Shorter, lighter breaths are drawn to and from his body as the constrictions gets worse, squeezing tighter with every second.

“Th-Thought I t-took this off,” his panicky voice gasps as he fidgets with the fabric. “C-Can't breathe … C-Can't breathe ...”

His hands shake as they fumble around his neck, failing to grasp the hem of his mask no matter how hard he tried.

“K-Karen ...” he chokes out as his hands give up on the mask and go to the emblem on his chest. “I-It's too tight ...”

Pressing down on the emblem does nothing.

Another press. No release, no expansion of fabric, no lessening of the vice grip suffocating him.

Several frantic presses, each harder than the last. Nothing.

And no response from Karen.

“K-Karen?”

Nothing but a thick silence that only serves to stifle him further.

“N-Ned,” he gulps, his hands shaking as they press down on the power trigger for the suit.

Nothing. Silence.

His body tightens. His breaths grow shorter still. Pain stabs into his chest.

The cold starts to settle in.

“Plea … Please … h-help me ...” he pleads breathlessly, his voice barely a whisper. “A-Anyone …”

“ _Guess heroes have nightmares too_ ,” a voice hisses out from the shadows.

“… Who's there?”

“ _All alone with no one to help them. No one to understand._ ”

Spider-Man crawls off his bed and tumbles hard to the floor. He slowly gets up and moves out to the centre of his room, the shadows seemingly dancing around him in a swirl. The constrictions stop. There's no release and his chest still shrieks and burns with every stabbing pulse, but they no longer tighten further.

“Wh-Who are you?” the hero whispers, managing to gulp down a couple of breaths of air.

“ _An admirer_ ,” the voice hisses with a chuckle, sounding from everywhere all at once. “ _An observer_.”

“Afraid to be in the light?” Spider-Man asks as he weakly staggers up against a wall, causing the mirror hanging above him to rock slightly.

“ _It's your fault it's dark_.”

“H-How …?”

“ _All in good time._ ”

The teenage hero slowly stands up as he takes more thin breaths into his body, turning to the mirror. From within the reflection, still the shadows dance and shift through the pale moonlight.

“I'll ask again,” he slowly utters a little stronger, slowly managing to draw a longer breath in, though the inhalation does nothing to stop the icy inferno consuming his chest. “Who are you?”

There's a slight pause before another chuckle reverberates from around the room. Spider-Man glances into the mirror to see a swirling shadow creep up like a hand and lunge at him. The instinctive tingling sensation flares up and the spiderling twirls round only to be met by nothing. Just the normal state of his room with shadows that lie as still as they normally do. Turning back round with a sigh, he looks again at the mirror which reveals a large figure of darkness looming back, with two blazing irises of scorching amethyst.

“ _See you, Spidey_.”

**[Trigger warning finished]**

* * *

Peter leaps up from the bottom bunk of his bed without so much of a sit up, hands stretching out before him and clinging to the base of the top bunk. His quick breaths slowly even out as the tightening slowly starts to unwind throughout his body and the frosty stabs matching his heartbeat slow and weaken.

“No suit on,” he mutters as he observes his body, back in the Star Wars themed pyjamas he had changed into before nestling down with Ned for their Star Wars marathon.

Inside his room the laptop that had been playing _A New Hope_ on DVD and was now repeating the menu screen over and over sat on the chair that had been pulled up, washing the pale luminescence over the bunk beds. Peter scuttles along the framework and peers up onto the top bunk to see Ned sound asleep, a little drool trickling out of his open mouth as he is wrapped tightly underneath his covers.

“Oh, thank god,” he sighs in relief before a large breath of air could finally rush into his lungs, the first in what felt like years, as all the tension strangling his body finally released and the crippling cold pains dissipated from his heart.

There wasn't a weird tingling sense telling him something was wrong.

There wasn't a vengeful jailbird coming to fulfil his promise.

There wasn't an unrealistic shadowy figure looming above him trying to burn a hole through his chest.

There was no danger here tonight.

Peter sluggishly crawls back down to the base of Ned's bunk before dropping down onto his, bouncing on the landing. Air as fresh as what's possible in a teenage boy's room could freely pass in and out of his body without some weird spasming constrictions trying to choke him to death. And his heartbeat could finally slow down to a rate that could be considered normal. For him, at least.

'What the hell was that?' Peter questioned internally, his mind racing at a million lightyears an hour trying to find any sort of sense of what those dreams were.

Or, at least the second one.

“I need more Star Wars,” he quietly decides out loud after a moment of silence, sitting up from his bed and moving to his laptop. After ejecting the disc and replacing it with the one for _Empire Strikes Back_ , Peter rolls back into bed and snuggles up under the covers. Before hitting play, he does reach over and check his phone, noting both the time and the lack of notifications.

_3:16AM_

“Star Wars makes everything better,” he sighs as he puts his Starkphone down and starts the movie, settling in for the opening crawl.

Not even 20 minutes later and the young Parker boy is out like a light once again.

**Author's Note:**

> A nightmare within a weird dream. How very strange …
> 
> Please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts. Anything is welcome; suggestions, ideas, thoughts, questions, concerns, you name it. Also, I've just made a Tumblr blog @thorongil82 if you'd care to head across. Really don't know why I did, but figured it might help expand and interact with my audience. 
> 
> I don't know when the next chapter will be. All that will happen is it will come when it's finished. So, until then, adios!


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